I Watched the Stars With a Stranger and Forgot My Problems

It was that kind of night when everything just seemed too loud.

Deadlines. Missed calls. My own thoughts. I had spent hours aimlessly scrolling on my phone, searching for things to distract me, but with each swipe I only grew more irritable.

So I did what I rarely do—I left my apartment. No plan. No destination. Just keys, hoodie, and the fading feeling that I needed out.

I ended up at the park on the block. It was quiet. Empty. The city din dulled by distance. I trudged up a little slope I usually avoided and lay down in the grass, feeling rather silly.

That's when I saw them.

A body already out under the stars, hands clasped behind head, eyes raised to the sky. I thought about leaving, not wanting to intrude, but there was something about their stillness that was. inviting. Like they were part of the night itself.

I sat a few feet back, not talking.

"You ever really looked at them?" they asked, still staring up.

"The stars?"

They nodded.

"Not in a while," I admitted.

There was a pause, but not an awkward one. The kind that feels like a breath.

“You’d think they’d get boring after a while,” they said. “But they don’t.”

I looked up. It wasn’t the clearest night, but a handful of stars still blinked through the haze. Soft, steady. Unbothered.

“They’ve been watching us way longer than we’ve been watching them,” they added, almost as a whisper.

I smiled at the thought.

We simply sat there for a little while, not really saying anything. Just looking.

Eventually, I explained to them that I'd felt choked. Not dramatically—I simply stated the truth. Life had been accumulating from all sides. I no longer had any idea what I was striving towards. Just moving, reacting, surviving.

They didn't interrupt. No words of advice. No "it will be okay." Just silence and blue sky.

Finally, they said, "I come here when I forget how small I am."

I stared at them, surprised.

"Not sad," they quickly added. "Just… reminding myself the world is bigger than my problems. Bigger than what's to come. It's useful."

And it was.

Because at that time, I wasn't thinking of bills, or emails, or texts I'd yet to send. I was simply. present. In the grass. Under the stars. With a stranger who felt more at home than most people I'd ever known.

When I stood up to leave, I hesitated. "Will I see you here again?"

They shrugged. "Maybe. But even if you don't, the stars will still be here."

I came home lighter. The weight had not disappeared, but it had shifted—spread out in the sky like stars.

I never learned their name. Never encountered them again. But sometimes, when the world is too much or too heavy, I return to that hill. I lie out in the grass, breathe deep, and look up.

And I remember: not all strangers linger, but some leave peace behind like a footprint.

- Amzad Rahid